Seven Years in Purgatory
by Queen-of-candyland
Summary: AU: Dr. Thredson regains Lana into his clutches. This is the story of her time as his prisoner. Will she succumb to what he wants most or will the fighter in her once again gain the upper hand? Warning: This story is quite dark.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: When Asylum was still airing, I had a deep seeded fear that Oliver would give Lana a lobotomy or something and she'd end up his Stepford Wife. I was as pleased as punch when that wasn't the case, but I finally decided to tell that story. So enjoy this "what-if" scenario. You should know that this story is going to be dark and all is not as it seems. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always nice. I don't own anything. Yada yada yada. Here we go.**

_1965_

Lana stared blankly at the ceiling above her; she wasn't sure how long that she'd been imprisoned in Oliver's basement, but it was long enough to know that there were exactly 147 cracks in the ceiling. She had counted them day in and day out and 147 seemed to be the most frequently occurring number. Time to Lana really didn't matter anymore since each and every day was the same; Oliver brought her breakfast, assured her that there was no way that she could escape this time, kissed her head, went to work, and left her alone with her thoughts. He came home and their evenings were more of the same, except for the once or twice a week he insisted she give him sex. Since she was chained at the ankle, she didn't have a choice but to comply.

While he was gone she did what she could to entertain herself and occupy her mind; even though he insisted that it would never happen, she still thought of ways to escape, though the thought occurred to her less and less frequently as time passed, and that bothered her. Becoming complacent in this situation was what Lana feared the most, but she was running out of options. She wondered just how much the bump in her belly had grown; she had been around 8 weeks along when Oliver had once again taken her from Briarcliff, and now her stomach was visibly protruding. Oliver told her every day that she was going to have the baby there and they were going to be a happy family whether she liked it or not, and in her condition she was in no position to argue with him.

In the beginning she had offered resistance as she always had, but now the fight was disappearing from her. She depended on Oliver to care for her, and she had the baby to consider. Initially she hadn't felt anything for it, but it was the only companion she had most of the time. During the long hours alone, she talked to it about what their lives would be like once they were free, and it was beginning to answer with kicks, which she had grown to find immensely comforting.

Oliver WAS starting to be kinder to her, though his inner maliciousness couldn't help but to seep out from time to time. The other evening he had allowed her to go upstairs long enough to take a bubble bath when she didn't put up a struggle before the sex he demanded of her. Of course, he had been a relentless voyeur at the bathroom door the entire time, but she'd still gotten the bath. Things were always better when she humored him. Sometimes she actually thought that he cared for her. Maybe if she gave in a little more often she could earn enough trust to be rid of the chains and that much closer to her freedom. She was out of options. What else could she do?

The days grew longer as her belly grew larger. The conversations that she had with the baby became more frequent, and they hadn't gone unnoticed by Oliver. Initially he had berated her in a tirade that lasted for the better part of a half hour because she had failed to inform him that their baby was moving and he wanted to be included in everything. She found herself apologizing, but her captor was not having it. Just as he had drawn his hand back to slap her across the face for her insolence the baby had come to her rescue and moved just in the nick of time. She grabbed the hand that was about to strike her and placed it on her stomach and Oliver instantly calmed down and his tirade against her turned into a long session of opining about the miracle of life, his impending fatherhood, and the "happy" life that they were going to have together. With hopes of being left alone, she agreed with everything he was saying.

Things didn't go as planned, though. Momentarily dropping his hand to her inner thigh, he had pinched the inside of her leg roughly, "because she needed to learn a lesson". She yelped in pain and he stroked her face telling her that it was "for her own good" before returning his attention to her stomach. The gentle caresses to her belly quickly turned more intimate and she had to once again give him what he craved most. As of late, she had begun to enjoy their intimacy. The pleasure that she wanted no part of was a huge upgrade from the little abuses he put her through. She wasn't sure if the foreign feelings she got while Oliver had his way with her were a result of her isolation and need for human contact, her pregnancy, or the madness that she was all but sure would completely consume her any day. Sometimes she thought it was a combination of all three factors, but she always felt dirty and ashamed when she found herself enjoying the carnal things that he did to her. Her body was betraying her. She feared that her mind was following suit.

With each passing week, Lana lost more and more of herself and increasingly found herself under Oliver's spell. After he had nearly struck her and instead pinched her for her insolence, he'd vowed to never do it again, and in her fragile state she believed him, though there was still a voice in her brain desperately screaming for her to stop. His promise was broken a few times when she had been less than enthusiastic about his attention or advances. If he struck her, it was rarely in the face; he favored slapping her thighs or bottom. Following his abuse he was always apologetic and went out of his way to show how kind he could be. Lana believed none of it, but she had discovered that he would grant her small favors in exchange for her cooperation in things he desired from her. The fight and pluck that had been so ingrained in her persona was dissipating into nothing; every day she lost more hope and appeasing Oliver to make her life more pleasant was much easier than living in complete misery.

After she had allowed him to lay his head on her belly to listen to the baby move and gently stroked his hair without resistance and without being asked to do so (why she had been inclined to pet him she didn't quite understand) he had allowed her to remain in the basement unchained the next day. Lana considered it a small miracle and was grateful for a chance to stretch her legs without Oliver around to supervise. She'd only tried to pick the lock on the basement door for about fifteen minutes before realizing that her body was no longer used to physical exertion and giving up. Oliver thoroughly inspected the lock when he came home and was not pleased with what he found. He immediately joined her on the bed and turned her on her stomach, and Lana cringed at what she knew was coming next. She gritted her teeth as his rough hands rapidly struck the soft skin of her bottom. When he went through his usual spiel of betrayal and loss of trust she denied any wrong doing and stroked his face to calm him down. He believed her; he always did. He gently rubbed over the throbbing area of her bottom and begged her forgiveness. She offered it; these days she always did.

When she smiled sweetly and said "Of course." after he had mentioned sleeping down in the basement with her he had brought her a few books and a journal that she had requested. He had been so pleased with her progress that he left the basement door unlocked the next morning and gave her free reign of the house. She had slowly sauntered upstairs, planning on getting the hell out of there after a much needed shower, only to find that Oliver had of course thought ahead and locked all the doors and windows from the outside and hidden the phone where she couldn't find it. Pushing the constant feelings of disappointment deep inside her gut, she decided to make the most of her break from imprisonment and settled in the tub for a long bubble bath instead. The loud voice in her head was screeching at her to break a damn window out and run for it, but she didn't think she was able to do so in her condition. There were so many good things to watch on television when she had been without entertainment for months and months. She got up from her place on the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich which was a privilege that she hadn't had the opportunity to do since before she was locked away at Briarcliff the first time. She figured that she was probably around seven months pregnant at that point and found that quasi freedom was enough for her. Once the baby came, she told herself, she'd take it and run.

But she didn't. Oliver delivered the squalling 6 pound baby girl one humid late summer night. The birth had been excruciating but Oliver had made it as comfortable for her as possible. When he laid the newborn on her chest Lana found herself weeping, glad to finally meet the creature that she had initially detested but had grown to appreciate as a companion. She realized that she loved this baby, and hadn't been sure that she'd ever be able to love anything again after everything that she had endured. Oliver quipped that he wanted to name her Stella and she agreed without any objection. With the overwhelming sense of euphoria and exhaustion after just giving birth, the thought occurred to Lana that maybe she didn't hate Oliver. He had shown never before seen kindness to her for the latter half of her pregnancy and already doted on and adored Stella. He wanted them to spend more time as a family unit and agreed to move Lana out of the basement and upstairs with him permanently if she'd keep up the progress that she had made.

Lana quickly agreed, figuring that she'd recuperate more quickly outside of the basement. She didn't mind sharing Oliver's bed (he spent most of his nights in the basement with her anyway and she had grown accustomed to his sleeping form beside her). As soon as she was healed enough to safely escape with Stella in tow, she planned on making a run for it. The loud voice in her head often reminded her of what she needed and planned to do, but she found the domestic life that she had built with Oliver to be simple and uncomplicated. He went to work; she stayed home. He did the grocery shopping; she attempted (and usually failed) to cook. He provided her with everything that she and Stella needed. Her body healed and every day she considered busting out the window to gain her freedom. She wasn't sure how far she'd get on foot or if anyone would believe what she had to say before Oliver caught her again and threw her back in the basement permanently. She knew that Oliver had rid the home of any evidence of his past wrong doing and she feared that any chance at real freedom would be fruitless. The voice in her head continued to make its presence known but more often than not she found herself shushing it. The voice would only get her into trouble that she didn't have the energy or desire to deal with any more.

And 9 weeks after Stella came into the world her womb was occupied again.


	2. Chapter 2

***A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews; I never expected this story to be so well received and I appreciate every one of them. There's some dark shit going on in this chapter (like so dark that I was almost afraid to write it), so be forewarned. As always, I own nothing. Thank you all for reading. Enjoy! (You probably won't though. It's that bad. Please don't lynch me.)**

_Splish. Splash. Giggle._

Lana laughed quietly and wiped away some of the droplets of water that constantly peppered her face as Stella repeated her three pronged bath process on an infinite loop.

_Splish. Splash. Giggle._

The slippery baby wasn't quite a year old yet and soon she would be a big sister. Lana savored the precious few moments that she had remaining to give all her attention to Stella before she would have to share it with the new baby. Stella's nightly baths were one of the highlights of Lana's endlessly miserable days of monotony. She no longer spent her time alone in the basement, but every day that Lana lived as Oliver's living prisoner was much of the same; awake at six to make him breakfast (Lana still wasn't much of a cook, but he ate her rubbery eggs just the same), listening at the sink as she washed the morning's dirty dishes and he rambled off THE RULES and the list of things he expected her to complete before he arrived home that evening, forcing herself not to grimace as he kissed her good- bye (some days it was easier than others, especially if he'd been on a sweet kick as of late), resting on the couch with the news on (why Lana needed to know what was going on in the world didn't escape her thoughts but the journalist in her was still curious) for a few minutes before Stella woke up and she had to start on whichever domestic chores Oliver had in mind for her for that particular day, caring for the baby, who was adorably sweet and still oblivious to the wrongness that surrounded her (and GOD was Lana grateful for that), biting her lip from the relentless back pain (she figured the new baby would make its arrival in about 5 weeks though Lana wouldn't be upset if it decided to come just a LITTLE earlier... after almost two years of it, she was just so sick of being pregnant though she doubted that she would be lucky enough to get much of a reprieve), cuddling with Stella when she got a minute's rest (the baby was still the only friend that she had in the world and the only thing that she was certain that she loved, though she supposed that might change when the new one arrived), attempting to make Oliver's dinner before he got home and usually burning most of it, kissing him upon his arrival (and occasionally receiving a backhand across the face if he felt she had kissed him too robotically and without enough warmth), making small talk over dinner, escaping to the bathroom to have her uninterrupted time with Stella that she loved, putting her to bed, and dreading more and more what Oliver expected of her once the baby was sleeping the farther along her pregnancy got, but he expected it nonetheless, and when she broke THE RULES she was always punished for her insolence.

Lana sighed, dreading what awaited her much sooner than she'd like. Sex with Oliver was sometimes somewhat enjoyable when she wasn't so heavily pregnant, but at this stage all she really wanted to do was rest her swollen feet and sleep. Most pregnant women were afforded that luxury but Lana was not most women. She wrapped Stella in a soft towel and held her close to her chest as she rubbed her back and whispered softly to her.

"What would Mama do without you?" She asked quietly. "You're all I have and someday we'll be free and you'll never have to live through this. I promise."

Lana didn't really believe her own words these days, though. Living Oliver's dream life of domesticity was all she knew anymore, and any time she briefly came out of the fog that she now lived in and thought of escaping she'd remember that she was 8 months pregnant with a baby that couldn't walk yet and she'd never be able to bust a window out and escape without harming herself, Stella, or the baby she carried. If only the windows in Oliver's home were a little lower... but she figured he'd liked that about the place when he bought it. Even if she did get out, nobody would believe her and Oliver would have her in his clutches sooner rather than later, she feared, and even if he kept her alive she'd never see anything but the gray walls of the basement again. If he did kill her, the children would be left alone with only him in the world and Lana just couldn't have that. Escape was too risky at this point; what she needed was a piece of evidence that would implicate Oliver in all of his many crimes and all she could do was hope that maybe she'd stumble across it some day. Then she'd feel safer about running, but not before. She just hoped that day would come before Oliver did something to her so horrible that he broke her into submission completely.

She was standing in the bathroom, cuddling Stella to her, kissing her head, and whispering sweet words to the baby when she felt masculine arms encircle her from behind. Lana shut her eyes tightly and tried to will him away with the power of her mind, but that was a quickly crushed dream. It always was.

"I need a few more minutes with her Oliver." She finally said when she couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Make it quick." He answered as he stroked the baby's head. "You've got to do your duty."

Lana felt bile rise in her throat. "Can't it wait a little while longer? I was hoping to have time to read her a story tonight. Reading is so good for babies."

"It is important, Lana." He answered. "But you should do those things during the day when you have nothing else to do. You know evenings are for me."

Lana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had absolutely NOTHING to do all day but laundry and dishes and cooking and scrubbing toilets and tending to a baby. This was one of his most eye roll worthy statements ever but an eye roll would earn her a punishment she'd rather not have tonight. She was just far too exhausted to care.

"Yes, Oliver." She sighed. "Evenings are for you, but do you want Stella to feel unloved and neglected? Our cuddle time is special."

Oliver turned her around somewhat roughly and grasped her wrist. "You know I never want Stella to be denied affection and love as I was but you have all day to do that. Go put her down for the night and come to bed. Make it quick." He said before exiting the bathroom and walking towards their shared bedroom.

Lana hugged Stella even more tightly to her and stepped off towards the nursery. The chances of her getting out of her duty tonight were slim to none. As she dressed the baby the thought occurred to her that Oliver had told her to put her down for the night and come to bed, but he hadn't said WHERE to put her down. Once Stella was snugly in the night's sleeper she carried her towards their bedroom and settled her in the middle of the bed. Oliver would never insist on sex with the baby asleep between them. She briefly wondered why she had never thought to do this before; it seemed like a brilliant idea.

When Oliver came out of the bathroom attached to the bedroom that they shared and saw their baby in bed beside Lana he had the look on his face that Lana feared most in the world and Lana gulped, fearing what was coming. Without breathing a word, he silently walked to the bed and picked Stella's sleeping form up and carried her towards the nursery. Lana bit her short nails as she anxiously awaited his return, which didn't take too long.

A few seconds later, he walked back into their bedroom and stared at her with an expression that she couldn't quite read.

"Do you think you're clever, Lana?" He finally asked.

Internally panicking, Lana swallowed and forced a small smile. "Whatever do you mean Oliver?"

"You must think you're very clever." He said stoically, his dark eyes staring at her intensely. "Bringing the baby into our bed to avoid our intimacy. You know the rules, Lana. That isn't one of them is it?"

Lana bit her lip and moved her eyes around the room, trying to focus on anything but his frightening gaze. "No it isn't." She finally replied. "I just wanted some extra time to cuddle with her though. She doesn't have much longer to be the baby and I want to enjoy it. I want her to enjoy it." She pleaded, hoping that he'd show her some mercy. He'd been especially tense lately, probably sensing her apprehension to intimacy with him. When she'd been in a more comfortable stage of pregnancy, she'd engaged in her duty without a complaint (she liked to blame her hormones and was afraid to admit to herself that it might have been something else) and he had been much easier to live with.

Oliver was having none of it. "That's bullshit and you know it." He said as he undid his belt buckle.

Lana had learned to be especially skilled at holding her tongue but sometimes the exhausted, pregnant woman in her won out, particularly if he was questioning her motivations when it came to Stella.

"I'm not bullshitting you Oliver!" She snapped. "Yes, my back is aching, and I'd rather not have sex tonight, but I wanted time with my baby. A mother shouldn't be denied that."

She was rewarded with a quick slap across her right cheek.

"What have I told you about back talking, Lana?" Oliver asked coldly, lighting a cigarette.

"I'm sorry, Oliver." She muttered without hesitation.

"Sorry isn't good enough this time, Lana." Oliver said climbing onto the bed and prying apart Lana's gown clad thighs.

Lana's eyes grew wide. Surely, he wouldn't rape her at this point would he? Of course he wouldn't. What he had in mind for Lana was MUCH worse as she would soon learn.

Oliver took the cigarette that he'd placed between his lips and brought it close to the sensitive skin of Lana's inner thigh. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare. Of course he would; he was Oliver Thredson. Lana bit into her wrist to keep from screaming and terrifying the baby as her sensitive skin was scorched. Oliver got off the bed and walked towards the living room for a drink without giving her a look back. He'd return soon enough to get what he wanted anyway.

Lana hissed briefly at the intense pain resonating from between her thighs before flopping on her side and sniffling quietly. Oliver had finally done it; he'd done something horrible enough to break her from ever wanting to rebel again. It would feel worse when he returned in a few minutes and he crawled between her legs. Lana didn't think it could possibly get much worse.

It did though; baby Camilla decided to stay in the womb for two extra agonizing weeks. Those two weeks that Lana had to spend doing her duty instead of getting a jump start on the six sex free weeks that she was so looking forward to. Six weeks of recuperation wasn't enough, but she knew it was all Oliver would afford her.

After all, he told her one morning after breakfast. He wanted a son.


	3. Chapter 3

***A/N: Thanks again for all of the kind reviews for this story; I appreciate each and every one of them. This chapter is transitional and a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thanks for reading! As always, I own nothing. Enjoy!**

Four children in as many years. Sometimes Lana felt like that Catholic woman who lived down the street from the home where she had grown up who always seemed to be in a maternity dress. Sometimes she felt like the old woman that lived in a shoe. Mostly Lana felt exhausted. Stella was a big help; she could trust the four year old with the sweet nature and ever present smile to keep an eye on the two middle children while she was trying (and usually failing) to get a meal together, or get laundry folded (Stella folded the towels and washcloths for her) or change the baby's diaper or do any of the endless things that Lana had to do each and every day to keep their household running and in the perfect order that Oliver expected. At three, Camilla was already a diva. Much like her father, if things were not to Camilla's satisfaction everyone else suffered while she threw hissy fits until she got what she wanted. Keeping the child satisfied was almost an entirely separate job unto itself. No wonder she was Oliver's favorite and the child that he most doted on; she was just like him, though she of all the children looked the most like Lana. Felix came along the year after Camilla was born, giving Oliver the boy that he so coveted. Unfortunately for Oliver (and Lana by default), Felix was entirely a mama's boy and practically clung to Lana's legs wherever she went. Not satisfied with the son Lana had born to him, Oliver had insisted they have another. Mason could crawl now and Lana dreaded the fast approaching day when he would learn to walk and be into everything. As much as they exhausted her to no end, her children were still all that Lana had in the world though she was grateful to have an unoccupied womb for the time being. She still hoped that someday they would all be free from the living hell they occupied, but for the most part Oliver had finally whipped what little was left of Lana's grit into submission.

Being complacent had its benefits though; Oliver's physical cruelties had waned into rare instances of punishment. For all his faults, he was never cruel to her in front of the children. He was somewhat of a detached father to all of them but Camilla, but still wanted them to like him and believe that he was the stellar human being that he deluded himself into believing that he was. They were still young and innocent enough to know better. Lana knew that someday they would know differently and hoped that it wouldn't be too rude an awakening for her children.

Sometimes he even let her out of the house; she got to do her own grocery shopping under his watchful eye. When she developed gestational diabetes while pregnant with Mason he had taken her to a real obstetrician; a friend of his who had promised Oliver that his "wife" would have the best of care. She looked and spoke to no one but him in public; that was strictly forbidden. Whenever they ventured out of the house Oliver none too kindly informed her that if she tried to run for it that he'd always catch her. And when he did, he vowed, he'd chain her in the basement to wither away and die and take the children and leave. He was aware enough of Lana's mentality to know that this was what she most feared in the world and he used it to his full advantage. Lana never thought of trying to run; that was a risk she just could not take. Dying sometimes seemed like a sweet escape that she would savor but she could not have her children alone in the world with only Oliver to care for them.

Since Mason was born, Oliver only showed sexual interest in her once or twice a week. Lana wasn't sure if it was because maybe even Oliver finally realized that they had enough children or if he found her body unappealing. She missed the days when her stomach was flat herself, but after four consecutive children with no time in between them to recuperate she doubted that she'd ever see it again. She guessed it didn't much matter anyway; she had no one to impress anymore, and the less Oliver desired her, the less she had to worry about. Another baby any time in the near future would finally push her off the deep end and take away any semblance of sanity that she maintained. She was already mentally precarious enough; Oliver wasn't oblivious to it and was sure that she still suffered from post-partum depression. He prescribed her anti-depressants that she begrudgingly took daily, weary of anything he offered her. They helped a little, but no tiny pill could ever make Lana exactly what Oliver wanted her to be. At this point, she was as close as she was going to get.

One day as she was toting a basket full of Oliver's laundry towards their bedroom and trying to pry an attached Felix from her leg so she could move easier she gave an apologetic look to Stella as she passed Camilla calling the shots in a tea party that didn't look like much fun for her eldest child. She finally pried her eldest son loose from her limb and assured him that she would return momentarily before quickly plopping the basket on the floor and putting Mason in the playpen and returning to her cheer.

"Jesus Christ." She muttered as she entered the bedroom and briefly plopped on the end of the bed to catch a moment's rest. The laundry wouldn't put itself away though, and her hiatus from domestic servitude was a short one. Oliver would expect fresh shirts in the closet when he arrived home and she just didn't have the energy to break the rules that day.

As she hung the last shirt in the closet, she noticed that a box on the top shelf was teetering precariously close to tumbling to the floor. When she reached up to readjust it, it tumbled to the floor knocking some of the contents loose. She rolled her eyes and bent to put them back, cursing under her breath. When she stood back up, she noticed that some of the paneling in the closet's wall was amiss. Intrigued by what she saw, she crept up on her tiptoes and pulled the paneling up and gasped at what she found behind it.

Lana felt like a child emerging downstairs on Christmas morning. The tape. She'd know that tape anywhere; it was the confession that she had finagled out of Oliver before he had taken her from Briarciff the second time. She was sure that he had disposed of any evidence that would implicate him as Bloody Face and had to laugh to herself. A man as arrogant as Oliver had to keep SOME kind of trophy of his crimes. This was her ticket to freedom, but she had to play her cards just right. One slip up, and it was all over and Oliver would leave her to die and take her children to God knows where. Lana just couldn't have that.

No, she'd have to be careful. Lana returned the tape to its hiding place and began to formulate a plan. She'd get him right where she wanted him;lull him into a false sense of security. When the time was right she'd strike like a cobra in the grass.

She walked back into the living room grinning, and kissed each of her children as she headed to the children. She'd begin to put her plan into action that very night; it would take a few months, she figured, but already she had a new reason to keep on living. She started by attempting to prepare Oliver's favorite meal and managed to only burn it slightly.

When Oliver arrived home from work she met him at the door with a warm smile and kissed him sweetly.

"I'm SO glad you're home." She said as he grinned appreciatively at her affection.

She could almost smell her freedom; it was right on the tips of her fingers.


End file.
